“Is that scoundrel still breathin’?” Doran spat.
“This scoundrel,” Kassian countered, “helped to take the capital city with a handful of mages and a couple of spells!”
Doran waved the achievement away. “I was gettin’ round to it.”
Faylen raised her ethereal hand, bringing a halt to the bickering. “There is another who should be among us. One whose voice carried the weight of a queen and the wisdom of a thousand years.” The High Guardian looked across the table at Reyna. “Queen Adilandra’s death deserves acknowledging, her life given not only for The Rebellion but goodness itself.”
All heads were bowed, though Vighon noticed Reyna maintained her posture, her stare piercing the stone beyond.
“She stood the line between the light and the dark time and time again,” Faylen continued. “Her past deeds are the only reason any of us are here today.”
Vighon would never argue that fact. Though he was born years later, he knew well of Adilandra’s efforts during The War for the Realm. Had she not convinced Rainael the emerald star to lead her kin against Valanis and the Darkakin, the world would be a darker place.
Galanör straightened his back and looked directly at Reyna. “I offer my condolences and deepest regrets. It was my actions that led to your mother’s…” The elven ranger almost choked on his words. “I have wandered the realm for many years now, allied to neither Illian nor Ayda. By way of debt, I offer you my services, Queen Rey—”
“Don’t say it,” Reyna cut in, speaking for the first time. “Your actions, nor those of any other, have ever swayed my mother. She was responsible for every step she took stretching back a millennium. So you see, Galanör of house Reveeri, you have no debt to pay.”
The elven ranger looked to disagree but Nathaniel raised his fingers from the table top and gave a subtle shake of the head, dissuading him from extending his proposal. “Adilandra wouldn’t have wanted us to dwell on the past while there’s still a war to fight,” the old knight said artfully. “We will carry our grief until such a time it can be given its day. What news of the campaign?”
Faylen nodded her overall agreement. “We suffered losses on Qamnaran,” she reported, forging through, “but we gained thousands more dwarves to our cause. Sadly, King Gaerhard was slain on the battlefield, leaving the Brightbeards in disarray.”
“King Gaerhard?” Nathaniel questioned, his focus now well and truly returned to the present. “Besides King Dakmund, was he not the last king of Dhenaheim?”
All eyes fell on the son of Dorain, their thoughts likely aligned. Vighon had to wonder how many kings and queens were seated around his table.
“He was,” Doran confirmed in a perpetually tired voice. “Lord Kraiden saw to his end, right before I saw to his.”
“Lord Kraiden is dead?” Vighon asked incredulously.
“And Morgorth, his dragon,” Faylen replied happily. “The battle was a victory for The Rebellion.”
“Aye, we left no Reavers on their feet,” Doran added.
“And what of this tower?” Vighon pressed. “Do we know why Alijah had it constructed?”
“No,” Galanör answered. “Nor can we say whether he achieved his goal,” he stressed. “If he did, the same has been done to me for I was there when the spell took effect.”
This was enough to turn Reyna’s head. “Do you feel different?”
“No,” the ranger said, shaking his head.
Vighon waved a dismissive hand. “His intentions aside, the dwarves being held on that island enjoy freedom now - a great victory for The Rebellion. We too have seen victory here in the north. The capital is ours and Alijah has lost another Dragon Rider and his mount.”
Doran slammed an enthusiastic fist into whatever table was actually in front of him. “Good on ye! Who did ye slay?”
“Reyna took the head of Rengyr,” Vighon was pleased to inform. “She saved my life at the same time.”
“You would have done the same for me,” Reyna replied, “were you not recovering from killing Karsak moments earlier.”
“Dragon slayer, eh?” Doran cheered. “It seems ye’ve returned to us with some thunder in ye veins, lad!”
Faylen turned to Vighon as if she had just recalled something. “Where is Inara?”
“We know she returned to The Black Wood without the Dragorn,” Galanör added.
Vighon took a breath, his fingers drumming against the table. “We cannot rely on the Dragorn, in this fight or any other. They have turned from the path of their predecessors, choosing now to live in peace among the older dragons.”
Despite the finer features being robbed in their ethereal images, all four from distant lands expressed visible concern and surprise at the news.
“It cannot be so,” Faylen pleaded.
Galanör looked almost angry. “Gideon would not abandon the realm like this.”
“Gideon was not in Dragons’ Reach,” Nathaniel expanded. “He journeyed to Erador to investigate Alijah some eight years ago. That is where Inara has gone, with Asher and Adan’Karth.”
“Eight years ago!” Doran exclaimed.
Vighon could see a flurry of questions inbound from all sides of the table. “I have spoken to her recently,” he interjected quickly. “Before Athis flew them west, Inara gave me Gideon’s diviner, the twin of her own.”
“And what of Gideon?” Galanör demanded.
“They found him - alive. Ilargo too, though I can say no more. After hearing of Alijah’s potential arrival, they are making haste to return.”
Slumped in his chair, a wand slowly spinning between his fingers, Kassian said, “Adding two dragons to our defences could ensure our continued occupation. But if those Reavers are anything to go by, Alijah is almost upon us. I fear we will not last the day as we stand.”
“He’s right,” Vighon concurred. “We have evacuated the lower town and prepared what catapults we can, but our numbers are too few to hold back Malliath, not to mention the Reavers and Alijah himself.”
“We cannot offer aid,” Faylen said by way of apology. “We have taken shelter in what remains of Ilythyra. It would take us days to reach you.”
“And we are further still,” Ruban echoed.
Vighon sat
